


It Will Be This, Always

by pineapplebreads



Series: Postbellum [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aging, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Insecurity, Intimacy, M/M, Mirrors, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Prosthetics, Tattoo AU, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:00:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25238095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pineapplebreads/pseuds/pineapplebreads
Summary: Steve has started to notice recently that Tony shies away from his reflection, and finds him cataloging and criticizing his scars and greying hair. Steve finds it unacceptable that Tony sees himself as anything but beautiful and perfect.Part of theTattoo AU.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Postbellum [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1825054
Comments: 55
Kudos: 342





	It Will Be This, Always

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a coda, and part of the Tattoo AU I've been developing, specifically based on [these images](https://pineapplebread.tumblr.com/post/619023585199226880/pineapplebread-pineapplebread-mr-and). 
> 
> In this AU, Tony survives Endgame at the cost of his right arm, his right eye, and a lot of scarring. He and Steve get together after his marriage with Pepper falls apart, and they've retired from the Avengers, but Tony is still working at Stark Industries. You can read more about the AU [here](https://pineapplebread.tumblr.com/tagged/tattoo-au-headcanons), and why they have tattoos [here](https://pineapplebread.tumblr.com/post/186615399923/tattoo-au-before-steve-enlisted-in-the-army-he).

“I will never leave him. It will be this, always, for as long as he will let me.  
If I had had words to speak such a thing, I would have. But there were none that seemed big enough for it, to hold that swelling truth."

— Madeline Miller, _The Song of Achilles_

...

There’s an enormous mirror in the sitting room area of their suite, and Steve had always thought it looked ridiculous and ostentatious. It’s taller than him and twice as wide, framed in gilded wood and intricate baroque carvings. It’s something the decorators brought in to fill the space. 

Neither he nor Tony had given much thought to it at the time. Even now, Steve doesn’t think about it for the most part but recently, he sees Tony flinch when he walks past the mirror, scurrying past his own reflection as though something’s nipping at his heels. On occasion, Steve sees Tony pause as he nears the mirror, grimacing into the glass before moving quickly away. 

It’s peculiar and a little concerning and Steve wants to get to the bottom of it. If Tony doesn’t like the mirror, the solution is simple: they’ll just get rid of it and replace it with some other giant piece of decor. No big deal. But why does Tony hate this mirror? 

One night after his shower, Steve sees Tony frowning into the mirror as he’s getting ready for bed. Tony is standing in front of the glass dressed only in his sleep shorts. Steve watches him from across the room as Tony squints his eyes at his own reflection and drags frustrated fingers through his hair, mussing it into disarrayed tufts. He sees Tony heave a heavy sigh as he attempts to smooth down the greying sides again before pinching at the skin of his own belly, his mouth set in a deep frown. 

Steve doesn’t have anything in mind when he crosses the room quietly and slips behind Tony, only knowing he needs to comfort his husband and erase the sad expression from his face. He loops his arms around Tony’s middle where they fit perfectly at the notch of his waist and it says a lot for both of them that Tony doesn’t startle. He simply sighs again as he melts against Steve’s chest.

“You alright, darlin’?” Steve asks, pressing a kiss to the side of Tony’s head. His thumb strokes along the side of Tony’s ribs, making him squirm a little.

Tony’s eyes are downcast in their reflection when he says with an overly bright voice, “Just peachy, sunshine. Let’s go to bed,” but Steve doesn’t budge.

“Is it the mirror? We can get rid of it.”

Tony visibly deflates. He sighs. “No,” he replies after a lengthy silence. “Not really.”

“Then what is it?” Steve prods gently. “You’ve been looking upset whenever you walk past it these last couple of weeks. We don’t have to keep it.”

“It’s really not the mirror,” Tony says, an edge creeping into his voice. “Just drop it, please. I’m tired.”

It clicks suddenly for Steve as he holds Tony in his arms. The quiet sadness when Tony looks at his own reflection and picks at his grey hairs and old scars. The uncertainty and melancholy in Tony’s eyes when he looks at himself. The silent frowns and quickening steps when he nears the glass. Tony doesn't hate the mirror. He hates the way he looks. 

Steve intimately knows the pain of hating his own reflection. He’s suffered through years of broken disconnect, not seeing the weak sickly boy from Brooklyn in the hulking soldier who stares back at him in the glass. It had taken Tony and ink and no small amount of pain to reclaim the biggest parts of himself and seeing the same ache he once knew in Tony's eyes breaks Steve’s heart. 

It hurts Steve to see Tony's confidence wane like this. From the days when he had thought Tony's public persona was innate arrogance to these quieter more private days when Steve knows that’s all a facade to protect the soft innards of a very damaged man, there is a noticeable difference to the way his husband holds himself. Even the steely mask Tony likes to wear outside of their home is softening. The projected confidence is still there, but Tony is quieter. 

Tony is at his most comfortable when he’s at home with Steve and their children. He’s usually a ball of kinetic energy and fluttering hands, floating from one end of a room to another, free flowing affection and endless streams of chatter, the embodiment of warmth and love and laughter. 

He’s bright smiles and elaborate stories with Morgan, always picking her up to hold her close even as she’s growing too big for him to do that easily now. He’s science talk and bright encouragement with Peter, looking a little lost sometimes as though he thinks Peter will dissipate before his very eyes again. He’s engineering ideas and gentle banter with Harley, slinging advice and comforting arms around his eldest. 

Tony has always been the brightest point of any room, but now on some days, he is quieter, blue hints of melancholy coloring his usual luminosity. He’s softer with his children and quieter with Steve. The loving affection is still there, but Tony‘s loud confidence appears hushed and suppressed, and Steve has begun to notice these quieter days are more and more frequent. Tony’s vibrance is dimming. This hushed energy is new. 

It’s also something Tony had felt the need to hide from him for a while, Steve can tell. He knows his husband well. Steve frowns, and thinks that won’t do at all.

“Let’s go to bed,” Tony says again, his head tipping back to rest against Steve’s shoulder.

Steve hums and presses another kiss to the side of Tony’s neck, nibbling gently at the skin. “Let’s stay right here,” he says, “I want to show you something.”

“Steve…” Tony says warningly, his voice tapering into a sharp gasp when Steve sucks at the column of Tony’s neck and scrapes his teeth against the sensitive skin. 

“Let me show you what I see,” Steve begs. “You seem to have forgotten how beautiful you are, Tony, and how much I want you. I’ll always want you, always have. I want you to see that.”

Tony closes his eyes and breathes. Steve waits patiently as Tony mulls over the offer. He watches the rise and fall of Tony’s chest as Steve continues trailing his fingers across Tony’s abdomen, tracing along the sensitive raised scars and inked tattoos in his skin. He can feel Tony shivering in his arms when he finds the sensitive areas, and he lingers at Tony’s waist, drawing slow circles into the crest of his hips.

Steve gently cups Tony’s jaw and draws him in for a real kiss, slow and lingering until it grows heated and Tony opens beautifully beneath his lips. Steve can feel his chest tightening and his core warming when he has Tony pliant and soft in his arms like this, and he deepens the kiss with tongue and teeth until Tony tries to turn in his arms to face him.

“No,” Steve says, his voice sounding gravelly rough. “I want you to see,” he repeats, gentling his tone. “Please. Do you trust me?”

“I do,” Tony says immediately with no hesitation in his voice, and Steve’s heart clenches painfully between his ribs from the look he sees in Tony’s eyes. 

Tony worries at his bottom lip, eyes still avoiding his reflection and he is silent for a long minute before nodding determinedly. With a steadying breath, Tony turns to look back to the mirror, eyes half lidded as his gaze settles on Steve’s hands. He watches Steve trace his fingers along the contour of his torso, slowly dragging his hands from Tony’s waist to the ladder of his ribs, feeling the warm skin beneath his palms. 

Steve leans his cheek against the side of Tony’s temple, and takes him gently by the chin to tilt his head up until they’re staring back at each other through the mirror. He doesn’t move his hand until Tony stops trying to avert his gaze. 

“I love every part of you, sweetheart, so much,” Steve says, “but these are some of my favorites. Because this,” he begins, stroking tender fingertips along the crows feet at Tony’s eyes, “is love and laughter. I want you to be happy always, beloved, and I never want you to know another day of pain.”

Tony makes a small noise of disagreement. 

Steve presses a soft kiss to Tony's temple. “Please let me finish. I’m going somewhere with this, I promise,” and he waits for Tonys halting nod before he continues, “This,” Steve says, raking gentle fingers through Tony's greying hair, salt and pepper between warm mahogany brown, “is a life well lived. You experienced so much and it’s only made you stronger and better. Gold might be your color, but silver is beautiful on you.”

“This,” Steve says, cupping the side of Tony’s jaw where the Infinity Stones had done irreparable damage and taken his right eye, now milky white and sightless, “this is the receipt from when the universe owes you a debt. You gave _everything_ for us, to give the world a fighting chance.”

“This,” Steve says, skimming along the jagged horizontal line in Tony's side below his ribs, a facsimile of a cruel smile, “was when you fought a Titan, and lived. You challenged a creature powerful enough to bring a moon down on you. He did that because you were winning, and that was his only way to stop you.”

“This,” Steve says, gently trailing his hand over the scars on Tony’s collarbone, topographical tales of his sacrifice, “means you got to come home to me. You saved the universe because you were so strong and brave and selfless. You saved us all.”

“This,” Steve says, following the path down his prosthetic arm, skin warmed metal and gently humming circuits, “is your brilliance. Your incredible mind and your perseverance. Nothing can stop you.”

“This,” Steve says, tracing the three inked Ms on Tony's chest, right beneath his heart, “is for our daughter. Our baby girl, who loves you so much. She gets to grow up in a safe world because of you. You’re the best dad in the world, and she loves you _three thousand,_ Tony.”

“This,” Steve says, brushing his hand down the red and gold peonies on his flesh arm, romance and prosperity, “is for us, our marriage. We beat the impossible odds and overcame everything to be together. We fought so hard for each other, my love, so I can hold you now.”

“This,” Steve says, resting his palm against Tony’s sternum, feeling the bumps and ridges of the scarring beneath his hand, and the steady beat of the heart below his skin, “is _you_. Your heart that I love so much. A heart big enough for everyone.”

“Steve…”

“Tony,” he says, blinking the burn of tears gathering in the corners of his eyes away, “how can you possibly think you’re anything less than the incredibly courageous, infinitely strong, insanely smart, tremendously selfless, wonderfully loving, gorgeously beautiful man I see and married?”

“Are you sure you’re not just imagining the man I was all those years ago?” Tony quips, but there’s a wobbly edge to his voice that twists at Steve’s heart. The edges of Tony’s eyes are pink, and Steve notices distantly that his thumb that had traveled up to stroke along Tony’s cheek is wet.

“I loved you then,” Steve replies. “I love you now, and I love you more and more with every passing day.”

Tony laughs, a humorless sound that puts Steve’s nerves on edge. “You know I won’t be able to keep up with you soon? I’m growing old. Soon you’ll be ashamed to even be seen around an old man like me. I’m going to look like an old perv next to you.”

“Little do they know,” Steve says wryly, “ _I’m_ the old perv. I’m twice your age, young man.”

That startles a genuine laugh out of Tony, and he chuckles as he squirms in the circle of Steve’s arms. “How did I forget? You _are_ the old man.”

“That’s right,” Steve says. His tone turns serious when he adds, “Tony, I don’t know how the serum is going to affect my aging process. So far it hasn’t been anything extreme. It’s not like I look twenty-seven fresh out of the ice anymore and I will be there with you through all of the aging milestones, for the rest of our lives. We said til death do us part and I mean that. I will _never_ be ashamed of you. Besides,” he says, fondness slipping into his tone, “how can I ever be ashamed to have such a gorgeous silver fox on my arm?” Steve leans down to hook his chin over Tony’s shoulder as they lock eyes in their reflection.

A slow smirk crosses Tony’s lips. “Silver fox, huh?” he says with a quirked brow.

“Gonna show you off to everyone,” Steve says, pressing a lingering kiss to Tony’s shoulder. “Walk around town with you gorgeous young thing half my age hanging on my arm. Everyone in the neighborhood’s gonna be jealous.”

Tony laughs, and Steve is gratified to see some of the tension easing from his shoulders and mirth returning to his bright eyes. “Silver fox _and_ young thing? Well, which is it?”

“Can’t it be both?”

“Does it work that way?”

“Why not?” Steve says. 

“That sounds confusing,” Tony replies.

“Shut up, I’m a senior citizen,” Steve returns. “I’m allowed to be confused. But you’re still my gorgeous, young, silver fox husband,” he adds, punctuating each word with a kiss just to see Tony smile. “And I’m the old man who gets to have him.”

“You have me,” Tony says quietly.

“I’m the luckiest man in the world,” Steve murmurs, his tone pitching lower to match. 

He looks into the mirror to watch the both of them as he strokes his hands down Tony’s sides. The familiar warm skin feels like home beneath his palms. He loves the way they look together, the contrast of Tony’s olive skin against his own paler beige, colored by the inks of their tattoos. The way his own bigger shoulders frame Tony’s smaller size like a frame to a painting, Tony slotting perfectly into the circle of his arms. 

He can see the quickening rise and fall of Tony’s chest as the moments pass and Steve’s hands dip lower to linger at his hips. If Steve spreads his fingers, the span of his hands can almost entirely encircle Tony’s waist. That’s a thought that’s always heated Steve to the core, the very notion that he can hold so much of Tony in his hands. Seeing it in the mirror quickens Steve’s breath and fans the embers igniting in his chest. 

Steve wants nothing more than to cradle Tony within his embrace and protect him forever, shield him from the horrors of the world they know and the evils that seek to tear them apart. As much as his husband would object to that, it’s in Steve’s nature to want to protect the ones he loves with a single minded ferocity that applies to little else. 

Steve can feel the slow breaths Tony is taking beneath his palms as they expand his diaphragm in rhythmic pulls. There's a little hitch in his throat when Steve skates his fingers from the side of his chest to graze the edge of his nail against Tony's nipple. He watches their reflection intently as Tony shivers, lips parting slightly as their eyes meet in the glass. 

“Gorgeous,” Steve murmurs, his own voice sounding breathless. His desire for his husband will never not overwhelm him, regardless of what Tony looks like, and Tony is always beautiful. Steve doesn’t think it’s much of a hardship to spend the rest of their lives reminding Tony of that. 

“You’ve made your point. I demand to be taken to bed now,” Tony rasps, his breath hitching again when Steve pinches the nipple between his fingers. Tony rolls his hips back to press his ass against Steve’s crotch in retaliation, moaning when he feels how hard Steve’s cock already is pressed up along his back. 

“As my love wishes,” Steve says, turning Tony around and bending to scoop him up. 

With his precious cargo in his arms and Tony pressing a smile against his neck, Steve makes the walk to their bed. He gently deposits Tony in the middle of it, and steps back to make quick work of removing his own pajama pants and sleep shirt. Steve watches with hooded eyes while Tony shimmies out of his shorts and slowly spreads his legs with a suddenly shy smile as Steve moves to crawl on top of him. 

“Hey there, beautiful,” Steve whispers as he drinks in the sight of his husband spread out underneath him. Tony is all gilded skin and lean muscle and dark eyes surrounded by inky lashes, Steve’s beloved and only. He closes his hands around the tops of Tony’s thighs to draw him in closer and with some gentle coaxing and encouragement, Tony wraps his legs around Steve’s waist. 

“You’re not too shabby yourself,” Tony quips, his shy grin easing into a lopsided and fond smile, an expression he saves for Steve alone. His eyes are warm dark amber in the low light of their room, the edges crinkling with the beloved laugh lines Tony had silently criticized in the mirror. This expression of his is Steve’s favorite. 

“Gee, thanks,” Steve replies with an equally fond smile in return, and he’s gladdened to see some of the joy returning to Tony as he stares back at Steve, the shape of his mouth a soft curve. 

“Fine,” Tony says with a good natured roll of his eyes. “My big handsome husband. A wet dream of a man.”

Steve wrinkles his nose in distaste. “Really,” he deadpans.

“I dreamed often of Captain America when I was young,” Tony says, his voice dipping low and turning serious, “but Steve Rogers is beyond my wildest dreams.” An echo of their wedding vows that immediately springs tears to Steve’s eyes. 

Steve takes Tony's hand in his and raises it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the rings he put there. “That’s Steve Stark-Rogers to you,” he says and watches as a flash of heat lights in Tony's eyes. 

“That’s right,” Tony replies softly. “Steven Grant Stark-Rogers,” he says, turning the words over his tongue as though he’s savoring the syllables. 

Hearing his full name like that makes Steve instantly warm from head to toe. He leans down for a proper kiss, a soft press of lips that steals the breath from his lungs. He shifts down closer until they’re pressed skin to skin and cradles Tony's face between his hands, stroking his thumbs along the sharp curves of his jaw. Tony is so gorgeous like this, pushing up underneath him, eyes closed and cheeks flushed, mouth parted to welcome Steve’s tongue. 

Steve wants to keep his eyes open so he doesn’t miss a thing: from the flutter of Tony's long lashes against the high crest of his cheeks to the soft inhale as Steve moves one hand from his jaw to the line of Tony's throat and down to his chest. His fingers skirt around the scars that make Tony self-conscious, traveling along the swaths of smooth skin as his husband arches up underneath him, following the heat of his palms. Steve lingers at Tony’s nipples, knowing that’s a favorite sensitive spot, and he’s rewarded with a soft moan. 

Tony is gorgeously responsive. He gasps against Steve’s mouth, his little pants of breath warm against Steve’s lips as their hips meet, and Steve can feel Tony’s hardness against his own. His hand trails from Tony’s nipple where he had been rubbing and teasing until Tony is bucking up against him, down to the crest of his hip and lower still to grip the curve of his ass to bring them closer, their erections sliding together. 

They move languidly for long moments, savoring the feeling of each other’s skin as they kiss, unhurried and undemanding. There’s quiet beauty in soft moments like these but Tony is capricious, and his patience only lasts so long. 

He deepens their kiss suddenly, turning the sweet press of lips into a wet slide of tongues and sharp little nips of teeth as his arms curl around Steve’s shoulders to drag bring him downwards and press ever closer. Soft moans fall from Tony's lips as he grinds against Steve, using his legs as leverage and locking his ankles around Steve’s waist to thrust up. Their skin feels hot where they meet, Tony’s erection a searing line against his own. 

Steve tries to slow Tony down with a tighter grip on his thigh but that only encourages him to play dirty. When Steve is momentarily distracted by Tony sucking on his tongue, Tony reaches a hand down to take them both in his grip. 

The feeling of Tony’s fingers closing around their cocks, slowly stroking them together is almost too much for Steve. Every touch along his skin feels electric as heat pools in his belly, the hollow of his chest feels aflame. 

“Tony,” Steve murmurs breathlessly against his husband's lips with a shuddering moan. 

Tony only responds with another filthy kiss that leaves them both panting for air after they part. When Tony breaks the kiss with a smiling gasp, his cheeks are gorgeously flushed, lips beestung kiss-swollen, dark eyes blown wide. He steals Steve’s breath in that moment. 

Then Tony presses another kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth before stretching across the bed to reach to their bedside drawer. Steve almost stays his hand so they can continue their unhurried easy touches, but the sight of Tony slicking his own fingers and reaching between his legs to stretch himself open proves to be too much, even for Steve’s normally ironclad control. In the span of seconds, his desperation is matching Tony’s as his fingers slide in alongside his into the tight heat. 

Tony throws his head back against the pillows, his neck a long smooth column Steve wants to taste. He presses his tongue against the skin there, tracing a wet line up to his jaw, while his fingers thrust shallowly to open Tony up for his cock. 

Soon, Tony is whispering impatiently, “ _fuck_ , that’s enough, Steve. Just _ah_ —fuck me already.” 

Steve ignores Tony’s demands until he feels his husband is ready, never wanting to hurt him. Tony is near begging by the time Steve withdraws his fingers and slicks up his own cock. He pulls Tony in for another deep kiss as he presses his cock in, pushing slowly through the first tight rings of resistance and sliding home to slick gripping heat. 

It’s in perfect moments like these when Steve is inside Tony his mind becomes all at once peacefully blank and hyper focused. Everything narrows down to the feeling of Tony wrapped around him and the pants of his breath against Steve’s neck, his juddering gasps and whispered encouragement, heartbeat echoing alongside Steve’s own. 

Steve had always thought “making love” was a sugary graceless epithet, an outdated saccharine idiom that wrinkles his nose every time he hears it. That was until he got to have Tony. 

As cliché as that may be, Steve can think of no other term that applies when he’s so intimately close to Tony, pushing inside of him as his husband stares up with dark eyes wide and full of wonder, love, and trust. Steve doesn’t think any term but “making love” _can_ apply to the intimacy they share as Tony surrenders to him, and he knows he’ll never have this with anyone else, because how can he possibly love anyone the way he loves Tony?

Tony owns his whole being, and Steve had always been willing to lay his beating cracked heart at Tony’s feet, years spent hoping for the day Tony finally thinks he’s worth keeping. Steve belonged to him even when they were on the opposite ends of a battlefield, and now that Steve gets to finally have Tony, has had him for years now, the excitement and novelty never leaves. Steve is overwhelmed with wondrous elation every time he gets to be this close to Tony. 

This is home, in the truest sense of the word.

Steve had always known he would be Tony’s forever. He had resisted the notion on the Quinjet a lifetime ago standing beside two gods, refusing to rise to the bait of a sad man wearing a mask that’s cracking at the seams far too similar to his own. He had been a coward in the dark of night in a farmhouse with danger rising with the morning sun on the horizon curve and their own unknowing destruction not far ahead. He had slunk away in shame and regret and sorrow in the cold tundra bunker in Siberia, his shield and soul left on the concrete floor with no hope for forgiveness, and no king’s share of gold could’ve been enough to seal the pieces of his heart back together again. He had thought he was too late when invaders fell out of the sky with a hail of fire and tar, and they all had to answer the call to arms the universe over, only to lose in the end, and he’d thought the other half of his soul was gone, gone, gone. His heart had broken when Tony stepped off of the Benatar and into Pepper’s arms, to move on away from Steve and cobble together the scraps of a life from the ashes, deserving of every happiness Steve could not give him. 

So Steve had sworn he would not let Tony go again after the dust settled and the War was over. 

They had fought monsters and titans and the whole world and each other to be together. After everything, how can Tony possibly think there may come a day when Steve will not love him anymore, because of something as trivial as the transient state of a physical body? 

Steve loves him beyond that. He loves the very core of Tony, his person and mind and soul. But if Tony has any question of Steve’s love for him, clearly he must be doing something wrong. He must work harder to wipe any such doubts from his husband’s mind. 

“I wish you could see how perfect you look like this,” Steve rasps, his throat achingly tight, “how gorgeous you look spread out underneath me.” Steve wishes he has the words to tell Tony he would move worlds for him, but there are no words in any language in the universe that can be enough to illustrate how Steve feels. His clumsy tongue tries anyways. “I wish you could know how much I love you, how much I’ll always love you. Nothing will ever change that.”

His heart is trying its hardest to beat its way out of his chest so it may land in Tony's hands as Tony's tight heat welcomes him again and again. There’s nothing but their shared breaths and shared space and shared bodies, as close as they can possibly get without metamorphosing into one creature. What can possibly describe what they’re doing, if not making love?

Tony drags him down for another kiss, and Steve can taste salt on his lips. He blindly reaches up to wipe the moisture from his husband’s cheek, his thumb a gentle caress along the curve of Tony’s jaw. He’s unsure whose tears they are, but he kisses Tony’s face until the salt is gone, listening to the echo of Tony’s thudding heart pressed against his own. 

“ _Philtato_ ,” Steve whispers. Most beloved. 

Later, when Tony is asleep tucked up against his arm, Steve watches the rise and fall of Tony’s soft breaths and trails gentle fingers through his husband’s dark curls. Tony is still in his sleep like he never is awake, the furrows in his brows smoothed and the tension in his mouth gone.

Steve knows this isn’t all it takes to fix the issue and to eliminate the pertinacious negative thoughts in Tony's head. He would be arrogant to think so. It’s going to take a lot of hard work and love to pull Tony back out of the dark he more and more often slips into, but that’s a challenge Steve is more than willing to tackle head on. It’s what he had knowingly signed on to do with their wedding vows, and it’s a privilege to even be the one who can try. 

He looks over at Tony snuggled up against his shoulder and knows he’ll need a course of action to prove over and over how deserving Tony is of admiration and love, how much of that he already has. Good thing Steve is nothing if not a man with a plan. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on [Tumblr (pineapplebread)](http://pineapplebread.tumblr.com) and [Twitter (@pineapplebreads)](https://twitter.com/pineapplebreads)!


End file.
